Vanilla Perfume
by Veronica-reads
Summary: Hermione is tangled up into a blind date, and it isn't with who she hopes. Oneshot.


**So, I've decided to replace this awful one shot with a slightly better one shot. -Veronica**

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It was a crisp, autumn day in the beginning of the school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your typical seventh year, Hermione Granger, famous for aiding in the defeat of Voldemort, who was normally calm, cool, and collected in any given situation, was having a particularly hard time keeping herself calm in any shape or form. Ronald Bilius Weasley, whom she considered a brother, a friend, and generally someone she trusted, had gone and gotten her tangled up in a blind date. With the aid of Harry James Potter, another person who she thought she could trust with anything.

Dating was not on that list for trusting them with, apparently.

"You _what?!_" Hermione shouted at the two boys, who looked very afraid of Hermione. Hermione was not pleasant when she was angry.

"It's just a blind date, Hermione," Harry said slowly, terrified of what she might do, "It's not that we thought you couldn't go on dates yourself, it's just..."

"_Just what_?" Hermione asked, seething. How dare they? Setting her up on a blind date was the worst possible thing they could've done to her, she thought.

"It's just that you tend to look at your books and your work more than you look for having fun," Ron said quickly.

Hermione paused. Well, they weren't wrong. Hermione was your typical, neighborhood friendly bookworm, and that couldn't be argued about. She knew she wasn't one for parties, she was more the library, quills-in-your-hair type. That didn't mean she was incapable of having fun, though. She just had fun in her own ways.

"Even though I prefer books when it comes to parties, Ronald, that does not mean that I can't have fun! Honestly!" Hermione yelled. This point had to be proven. Hermione knew she would have to go through with this date, but she wanted to make a point of her not needing it.

"Hermione, look, it's nothing worth getting riled up about!" Harry said, "Think of it as...as a break!"

"A break.

"Yeah!" Ron agreed, "A break from your books for once. You might even like the guy!"

Hermione considered that point. She finally gave in, apologized, and agreed. Maybe she would like the person the blind date was with.

Looking back in hindsight, Hermione Granger did not like the boy at all. She should have never considered that point that she had pondered on, because now, this "date" classified under one of the worst nights of her life. It went like this:

Hermione had put a purple dress that went down to her knees, brushed out her slightly less wild hair, and had put on vanilla cookie smelling perfume. She thought this would be at least half a pleasant night.

It was not.

She got down to Hogsmeade, and went to the Three Broomsticks where she would be meeting this person. She went to the table Harry and Ron told her to go to, and looked surprised when she saw Draco Malfoy sitting there.

Naturally, her first thought was to tell him to shove it elsewhere. Or, alternatively, knock his butterbeer all over his pants. She did neither of those things, but instead, pointedly said, "Malfoy, move."

He did not move.

Instead, him being himself, said, "I don't see your name on this table, Mudblood."

Hermione didn't originally plan to tell him why she was there in the first place, and many parts of her brain told her not to tell him, but she was just so tired and done with everything, his comment being the cherry on the cake.

"Malfoy, I'm here for a blind date and this is the table where I'm supposed to be."

He raised his eyebrows and remarked, "I am also waiting for a blind date."

It took them both several seconds to realize the situation.

"No way." Hermione said flatly.

"I am _not _going on a date with you," Draco said with a slight edge to his voice.

"Way to even see if I was interested," Hermione said angrily, and she sat down across from him anyway.

"Why would you be?"

"No idea!"

After that, they barely spoke at all, other than to give their orders for another round of butterbeer. The instances where one of them would make a passing comment, the other either regarded it and said nothing, or they started an argument over it. Nothing went right.

"Granger, what is that stupid smell?" Draco asked randomly, just as the waitress was coming around for their check.

"Vanilla," Hermione said in a tired tone, "I thought you, with your high caliber, would at least know what vanilla smells like."

"Oh." Draco said, and didn't take it further.

Hermione got her coat, and was just about to leave when Draco mumbled, "I like it."

With that, Hermione had to stop herself from running out of there. What was that? Did that count as a compliment?

Hermione didn't bother figuring it out at the moment. She didn't want to figure it out, because the last thing she wanted was a ex-Death Eater boyfriend. Much less Harry's arch-enemy.

What she did figure out, though, was that she wasn't going to use that vanilla perfume spray again any time soon.

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**Well I think that's a better, less cliche ending than it was previously. -Veronica**


End file.
